


The Shared Affliction

by BoxWineConfessions



Series: Atypical Omegaverse [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Double Penetration, M/M, Omega Otabek Altin, Omega Yuri Plisetsky, Sex Toys, the gentlest DP you will ever read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-02
Updated: 2017-03-02
Packaged: 2018-09-27 22:38:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10054691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoxWineConfessions/pseuds/BoxWineConfessions
Summary: “Sometimes I need reminding,” Otabek’s words are slow and slurred as he buries his nose in the crook of Yuri’s neck and inhales deeply. “That your heat is starting.”“Hard to remember?” Yuri lets his hands slide up under the too tight cotton shirt. It slides up easily over Otabek’s stomach. His skin is feverishly warm, and Yuri wonders if his fingers leave sparks wherever they brush over skin and sweat.Yuri really wants to fuck Otabek once really good before his own heat starts up. Before lust parches their lips and leaves them both begging for cock. Before lust addles their bodies and they have to use toys on each other to satiate the unquenchable thirst between them. He always loves that so much, the one or two fucks at the start of his heat, right after Otabek’s takes hold completely. The one where it’s just a spark in his gut and at the base of his cock, and it takes forever and a day to come but when he does, it feels so good like sunshine from his toes to the shells of his ears.





	

“Otabek,” The syllables don’t so much roll off of Yuri’s tongue so much as they stumble and fall out of his mouth. Clunky and awkward, they show just how tired he really is. “Beka,” his tone softens, and the words come out easily. Soft and smooth and nonjudgmental. “Hey, let me in will you?”

Yuri splays his hands wide across the small of his back and rubs at the muscle there. It’s useless. The ache there has settled in from endless long days at the rink, and exacerbated by spending last night on the couch.

Yuri sinks back against the door frame and stares at the mottled popcorn texture of the ceiling. They need to dust for cobwebs; they need to tell their landlord that the upstairs neighbor overfills his tub and lets the water spill over so that it leaves big ugly rust stained marks on the ceiling.

“I’d rather not.” Otabek replies finally. He’s thought about it. Knows that he should, but has decided against it. Yuri can hear a tinge of guilt in his voice. That little inflection that says, I know it’s wrong, but I just can’t stop myself.

From this side of the door Yuri can smell Otabek’s scent. It’s pungent like sex and sweat and shame and lust. All the things that Otabek feels, and Otabek so badly wants to deny. These are things that Yuri understands very much. These are things that Yuri hates just as much about himself, but finds so excruciatingly beautiful in Otabek.

“That’s fine but,” Yuri inhales sharply through his mouth and then exhales slowly through his nose. Makes sure to breath out for far longer than it took to breathe in. Just like Otabek taught him to do right after he cracked his brand new phone in a fit of rage during practice a few months ago. 

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want Otabek right now. The whole apartment reeked of his scent, and it was only getting worse because Otabek was stubborn. Refused to touch himself or to let Yuri touch him until the very last moment. Otabek would wait until he couldn’t take it anymore and was almost blind and sick with need.

Yuri exhaled slowly and tried to abate the lingering feeling between his legs. The one that said he could help Otabek, when in reality he just wanted to take and take and take from the other man in his vulnerable state.  “I’d like my blanket,” he confesses.

Smelling Otabek go through a heat always triggers his own. Since he can’t have Otabek right now, Yuri would very much like to go out right now and do an off ice session in the park with Viktor and Yuuri as a poor substitute for his pent up energy. Of course, they’d smell heat on him immediately and start mothering him. Tell him to go home and nest with Otabek and hold him close.

Wrapping himself in his childhood comfort blanket and riding out the tight hot coiling waves that washed down his spine, over his belly, and spilled into his crotch would have to do for now. Over time the duvet has gone from lilac to a faded and dirty off white from accidental exposure to bleach and the sun over the years. It sticks together constantly with static, and has big ugly pilling across it from too many washes. It reminds him of Moscow and Mama and all the little things that quell the anger and the rage, and the uncertainty that he can always see from the corner of his eye, but never confront directly.

If Otabek would let him have it.

Yuri can hear movement from within the room. Feet pad across carpet, the lock across the door clicks open with a hollow clatter thunk noise. “It smells like me. I’m sorry.” Otabek extends the blanket toward Yuri.

Otabek’s a fucking vision. His face is flushed, and every bit of skin that Yuri can see is damp with sweat. The shirt that Otabek wears is pale blue, and it’s pulled tight across his chest so that Yuri can see the expanse of his chest underneath. His muscles ripple with the timid movement of handing Yuri the blanket. Yuri can see that his nipples are hard against the soft blue cotton.

It’s Yuri’s shirt, and the realization makes his mouth go dry.  It’s dirty, he knows this for a fact because he wore it to practice all day yesterday. 

Sweatpants hang low on Otabek’s angular hips. With his eyes, Yuri traces the line of Otabek through the sweats. He’s hard, probably moments away from leaking through the sweatpants hastily thrown on so that he could greet Yuri.

“Everything smells like you right now Beka, fuck,” he breathes out again in frustration. He won’t pursue Otabek until Otabek asks for it. It’s not like he was an alpha blinded by lust and willing to coerce and take advantage and hurt to get what he wanted.

Yuri wraps the blanket around his shoulders. Tries to sneak a sniff of the blanket without making a big show of burying his face into the fabric and breathing in Otabek’s scent. It’s hard not to when the blanket smells so strongly of him. The fabric is still warm. As if Otabek had been curled up within it until moments ago.

“You smell different.” Otabek says with his brows knit and his lips pursed. Yuri recognizes it immediately as the slow and sudden realization that Otabek comes to each and every time that Otabek begins his heat and Yuri follows. The realization that Otabek isn’t alone in any of this. That Yuri endures much like he endures. That maybe, just maybe, he’d very much like to kiss and tease and touch and be made love to.

“Of course I do, fucker,” but Yuri says it with an acrid chuckle.

Otabek walks back to his nest in the bed. All kinds of things are strewn about the upturned covers. His laptop was open and paused at a recent run through of his short program. A discarded pair of thick noise canceling headphones was attached to his phone. Otabek’s sampler is tossed on top of the duvet. It’s the one that Yuri got him for his nineteenth birthday. Several dog eared novels are scattered about too, ones that Otabek has read before and doesn’t have to think about much in his current state. For Otabek, it’s important to remind himself of all the little things that make him human when he’s in heat. It helps him remember that he’s not just some oversexed thing that needs protecting.

Yuri likes to expend any excess energy not used fucking to push all the furniture out of the way in the living room and go through the off ice version of his routine until he feels like passing out, or can’t fight the idea of not having Otabek’s fingers and tongue and dick inside of him any longer. So needless to say he fucking gets it.

“Would you um,” Otabek purses his lips, as if he’s fucking embarrassed to have not asked beforehand.

But how many time have they gone through this? And how many times has he waited for Otabek to ask?

“Like to stay?”

“Oh Beka,” Yuri throws the back of his hand to his head in a mock swoon. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Yuri lets Otabek set the pace despite the fact that just being near the other omega has got his heart racing so fast that his ears ring and his skin is damp with sweat. Otabek’s arms circle around his waist as soon as he climbs into his side of the bed.

“Sometimes I need reminding,” Otabek’s words are slow and slurred as he buries his nose in the crook of Yuri’s neck and inhales deeply. “That your heat is starting.”

“You know it always starts as soon as you stink up the place,” Yuri laughs into the crown of Otabek’s head.

“Yeah but-“ Otabek interrupts himself by gripping Yuri’s sweater with both fists and pushing his nose into the fabric.

“Hard to remember?” Yuri lets his hands slide up under the too tight cotton shirt. It slides up easily over Otabek’s stomach. His skin is feverishly warm, and Yuri wonders if his fingers leave sparks wherever they brush over skin and sweat.

“Yeah,” Otabek agrees. “Would you like to watch a movie or something?”

Yuri really wants to fuck Otabek once really good before his own heat starts up. Before lust parches their lips and leaves them both begging for cock. Before lust addles their bodies and they have to use toys on each other to satiate the unquenchable thirst between them. He always loves that so much, the one or two fucks at the start of his heat, right after Otabek’s takes hold completely. The one where it’s just a spark in his gut and at the base of his cock, and it takes forever and a day to come but when he does, it feels so good like sunshine from his toes to the shells of his ears. “Don’t wanna finish watching your free skate with me over your shoulder?”

“I was thinking about picking something,” Which is code for, “not just yet.” Yuri’s always prided himself on his resolve during heats, but Otabek’s will is iron and enforced with concrete. “Lemonade Joe?”

“Hm,” Yuri agrees, but his hands don’t leave the crest of Otabek’s hips. “Sounds good.”

Otabek’s got every blanket into the apartment stacked on top of him in bed despite the fact that he’s feverish.  So Yuri goes from the cold and the draft of the hallway to the heat of Otabek and the bed rather quickly. Despite Otabek’s reluctance to have sex right away, he has no qualms in tucking Yuri’s body flush against his own and spooning him close. Yuri’s eyes drag shut and flutter open, drag shut and flutter open multiple times in rapid succession.

Otabek doesn’t just smell like sex and heat and sweat and slick anymore. He smells like their brand of detergent, and overpriced coffee he buys from the market. It’s addictive. Otabek slots up against him, and they rub against each other and breathe in each other’s scents. The action should set the fire in his veins. It should prime the desire and pump him full of pheromones, yet it doesn’t.

Otabek feels so warm, and so calm, and so content against him. He can’t help but feel the same way.  Yuri makes it through twenty, maybe thirty minutes of the film before closing his eyes for good and falling asleep.

* * *

“Yura,” Otabek’s voice is firm and steady. It’s the same tone he uses with Yuri when he spies a new litter of stray kittens out in the alley way or passes the window of a high end retail store: Armani or Nieman Marcus, or Saks with wide eyes and a high credit limit.

The tone is the same, but it says something completely different. Where firm voiced Otabek so often tells him “no,” Otabek asks something different right now. Yuri knows that in a voice that’s firm, and no nonsense, and never to be underestimated, that Otabek is very much _begging._

“Yura,” Otabek repeats against the shell of his ear. Yuri’s eyes flutter open and slowly he tumbles back into reality bit by bit as little pieces of sensory information come to him and begin to make sense. He’s not just flush with the faint dampness and heat anymore. His entire body feels like it’s been set aflame from deep within. His clothes are soaked through, in several places. Beneath his arms, at his chest, as well as the crotch of his sweats the sweat dampened clothing clings stiflingly to his skin.

Next, Yuri comes to understand the source. Otabek’s erection rubs frantically between his clothed cheeks.  “Please,” his voice is husky and raw and full of need. Otabek’s been smelling him and rubbing against him for god only knows how long.

“Sure Beka,” Slowly, Yuri peels the sweat soaked clothes away from his body. Yuri’s gonna keep it together for Otabek’s sake and give him the nice slow loving fuck that he likes to get at the beginning of his heat, but make no mistake, Yuri feels the dull ache deep within. Yuri needs.

As Yuri undresses, Otabek doesn’t part with him for a moment. Keeps his mouth on his neck and his ears and his collar bones while Yuri moves, and reaches under the bed for the box that they keep there.

“I don’t want those,” Otabek pants into his ear. Yuri can hear the discomfort that tugs and threatens to make the words melt into a whine “I want you,”

“You might later,” he might now. For all that they try, it’s hard to ignore nature. Hard to ignore what the body wants. Right now his body really wants a dick inside, but he’ll wait because the promise of Otabek is so much better.

 Otabek discarded the shirt, which means all that’ left for Yuri to do is to wedge a hand down the elastic waistband of Otabek’s sweats, and pull them down over his hips.

Once Otabek is properly undressed, Yuri kisses him. Not just a stolen peck on the mouth or on the neck, but a real ‘watch him and make sure he gets inside alright after the date,’ kind of kiss. A ‘pick me up on the back of your motorcycle,” kind of kiss. Heavy and breathy and over the top, just the way that he knows that Otabek likes.

Otabek moans into the kiss, cants up into him, so that their sickly damp skin smacks together. Yuri turns them so that Otabek is on his back, and Yuri rests on top between his legs.

“Hey,” his voice is gruff, all bark and no bite when they part. “You gonna let me take care of you?”

“Hm.” Otabek hums into his neck. He’s too busy smelling his sweat slicked skin to really listen.

Yuri splays a palm across Otabek’s chest and pushes him downward onto the bed. “Beka,” Interrupts himself by pressing another kiss to Otabek’s mouth. “Let me.”  Yuri’s hands slide down lower and reaches for Otabek’s cock.

Otabek moans against Yuri’s mouth in response and cants his hips upward at the simplest of touches.

“Beka,” Yuri smirks against his lover’s clavicle. “You really need me huh?” As if to reify his point, the hand which rested on Otabek’s cock trails lower to Otabek’s entrance.

Otabek makes a noise, garbled and disjointed, somewhere between a coo and a whine in response.  He’s _very_ wet and _very_ ready. It’s sappy as fuck, but Yuri falls in love with Otabek all over again. Knowing that Otabek lets him see this side of him, and no one else. Especially not some shitty alpha with a chip on his shoulder…Well it makes his chest swell with pride almost as much as landing a quad with arms raised, or taking home a gold medal.

One finger slides in easily.

“Yuri,” Otabek keens against his touch. Holds onto a breath that he should exhale.

“Shhh I know. I know,” Yuri slides in another and gives a few experimental flicks of his wrist before he adds a third. “Better?”

“A little,” Otabek hisses against his neck.

Yuri chuckles. Understands the mixture of temporarily relief which combines with greed and the ultimate need for _more_. “What do you want?” Otabek’s stretched pretty tight at three, but he also knows what his body can take during a heat.

“I want-ah,”

Yuri pushes against Otabek’s rim and adds his pinky. He’s watched his entire fist disappear inside when Otabek was in the throes of his heat, and so he knows that this is only the beginning of Otabek’s want and greed.

“Yuri,” Otabek screws his eyes shut once more, and he just looks so good like that laid out on the mattress and taking his fingers.

“My hand? My dick?” Yuri moves his fingers as much as the awkward positioning would allow. If Otabek chooses his hand, they’re going to have to switch. “Maybe you do want the toys?” He gestures to the box. “The blue one?” That’s a lie. That’s his favorite. The one _he’d_ very much like right now. “Or the glass one,” which he knows for a damn fact is Otabek’s favorite.

“Your cock Yuri.” Otabek says it with a hint of exasperation in his voice. Like Yuri should damn well know what he wants, which to be fair, he does. He knows he wants to get fucked, but they have _so_ many goddamn options he _would not_ be offended of Otabek wanted to start with something other than his dick.

“Alright, get ready for me.” They’ll start in the position that Otabek loves more than all the rest. Doesn’t matter if he’s fucking or getting fucked, Otabek lives for deep eye contact and long lingering kisses that bruise.  Otabek’s hips are stacked high on a mountain of pillows, and Yuri between his legs, so that Otabek can look him dead in the eye while he says all the romantic shit he likes to spew in the heat of the moment.

Yuri thrusts in. “Beka,” flies from his lips the same moment that, “Yura,” slips from Otabek’s. Together their names come together in a muddled mixture of need and want and love.

“Beka how do you do that?” Or maybe he’s the one that spews romantic shit in the heat of the moment, “Take so many fingers and still feel so tight?” Cause he does. Like it’s their first time, and they’re both blushing virgins.

“Yuri,” Otabek’s breath comes out in short staccato breaths that interrupt him. “Stop teasing.”

Oh yeah, the guy did wait til the last minute as always. Yuri rolls his hips experimentally.

“More,” Otabek demands, which is rich because they guy loves to tease Yuri relentlessly with his fingers and his mouth and make him fucking beg for his cock. Otabek shifts his hips against Yuri and wraps his legs around his middle pulling him closer. Yuri leans over Otabek blocking him in on either side with his arms, and starts fuck into him harder.

His thrusts are uneven as he scrambles for purchase against Otabek, and Otabek does his very best to hold him close while simultaneously demanding more speed and more pressure and simply _more._

The slap of damp skin against damp skin is obscene in the way that it’s sharp and sticky and staccato over and over and over again.

Not to mention, that by the time Beka lets himself get to this point he’s the very definition of wanton.  It’s like he’s an omega out of a porn video. He tousles his head against the pillow with each thrust of Yuri’s cock, bites his lower lip, and makes _the best_ goddamn noises. Breathy little moans that make Yuri want come deep inside. Deeper moans that start in Otabek’s chest and ripple outward. Whining noises that make Yuri pull almost all the way out and then thrust back in relentlessly.

Little sighs into the sloppy open mouthed kisses that Yuri gives.

So good. So fucking good.

“Beka,” Yuri breathes. Somehow, he manages to wedge a hand between them so he can toy with Otabek’s long neglected cock. He’s got to be close, being in heat for a full day before all of this. “You wanna come?”

“Yeah,” Otabek breathes. “Please Yuri,” he adds as an afterthought. Like being polite is still one of his top concerns right now. It’s too fucking cute. “Please? I love you. Please”

  Yuri wonders if this will be enough. If he’ll be able to come just from fucking Otabek, or if he’s too far gone into his heat and needs something inside too.

He shakes the thought from his mind and pushes his attention back to Otabek.

Yuri pumps him with a tight fist. “Of course.” Keeps his hips rocking steadily with his fist. “I love you too baby.”

“Yuri!” The pushback in Otabek’s movements becomes erratic, and he screws his eyes shut tight. Otabek mouths against Yuri’s neck. His teeth graze the skin, but never bite down. It’s amazing how even when he’s coming on Yuri’s dick and into Yuri’s hand that he’s so damn poised and so damn composed.

Yuri knows for a fact he’s left his fair share of bite marks on Otabek’s skin.  

Yuri keeps going, fucking Otabek through it all. “You haven’t come yet.” Otabek murmurs against his shoulder.

“What was your first clue?” Yuri stills for a moment, and then wriggles his hips inside Otabek’s warmth.

Otabek frowns slightly. “But you want to.” His lips pull together in a fine line of displeasure.

“I do, yeah.”

Otabek leans so that he’s halfway sitting upward. The position is awkward, and makes it hard for Yuri to remain inside his partner. “You need something.” Otabek bites his lip and works an arm around Yuri’s body. Rubs a single digit against Yuri’s hole which is _very_ wet with slick by now.

“Nothing gets past you Altin.” Yuri says with a smirk. “A dick would be nice right now though, yeah.”

“You should pick one,” Otabek gestures to the box that Yuri had dug out from under the bed and then quickly discarded in Otabek’s need to be fucked in _just_ the right kind of way. “I’ll put it inside.” 

“I thought you didn’t want those.”

“You like them.” Yuri fills in the rest, “so I’ll tolerate them,” is of course heavily implied.

Yuri opens the box with the flick of the wrist. Doesn’t even pull out of Otabek because he’s not doing that until the very last second. He reaches for the little blue plug that he likes so much. Then, he  reluctantly pulls out of Otabek’s warmth tries to ignore the sharp whining sound that Otabek makes at the loss of contact.

“It’s fine. I’m fine. You’ll put it back in as soon as you can right?”

The comment shoots straight to his cock, and god damn it “Otabek!” Yuri says with a growl.

Otabek pushes all the pillows aside and hauls himself into a proper sitting position. “Turn around.”

Yuri complies.

Otabek is quick and efficient as he works, motivated by the desire for more, more, more. First his index finger, then his middle finger. A few experimental pumps of his fingers, and then he’s pressing the toy at Yuri’s entrance. “Your heat came really fast.”

“I can’t just-Ah,” Otabek pushes the toy in inch by inch. “Sit around and wait like you,” but it’s not exactly the truth. He’ll wait a little longer before begging Otabek to fuck him. Wait for as long as possible so that he can make Otabek feel _so_ good first.

“Better?” Otabek doesn’t let him respond, just moves closer behind him on his knees so that he’s cupping Yuri’s jaw and pulling him close for a kiss.

The fire isn’t extinguished. Far from it; it feels stoked and rekindled and yet he feel so far from his own orgasm. Yet the stretch and burn of the muscle is undeniably good. “Much better.”

“Want me to?” Otabek’s eyes drift towards Yuri’s cock still hard and waiting for release.

“No,” Yuri shakes his head. “I want you to pick one though,” Yuri gestures to the box.

“Yuri, you’re enough for me.”

“That’s not what I said at all,” Yuri responds with a huff. Yeah he can make Otabek come like this for the next day or so until his heat ends, but _why_ when there’s _so many_ options.

Otabek’s eyes dart nervously from Yuri to the box and back again to Yuri. “The glass one then.”

Otabek sprawls out on his stomach, with his legs closed so he can grind shamelessly into the sheets. When Yuri thrusts back in, Otabek’s grip on Yuri is relentless and vice tight, and Yuri wonders if he’s going to be able to manage to get the toy all the way inside.

Yuri traces Otabek’s rim. It’s red and puffy from their earlier fuck, but Yuri knows that Otabek wants _needs_ more.

He does too.

Experimentally he tries a finger alongside his own cock. The feeling is strange, not exactly pleasurable, but he doesn’t want any part of it to hurt for Otabek. “Hey, hand me the lube,”

“Yuri I don’t need it,” The firmness is almost completely gone from Otabek’s voice. Just need.  _“Feel.”_

“I know you’re fucking dripping,” Yuri moves his finger inside Otabek as if to emphasize a point. “It’s for the toy heat-brain.”

There’s some shuffling, and readjusting, and lube, and lube, and more lube so that any part of Yuri and Otabek that weren’t wet and dripping before certainly were now. And they’re gonna have to change the goddamn sheets, so Otabek better not pass out right away.

“Yuri, please,”

“Fucking typical,” Yuri snorts. “Just a few minutes ago its all, “Yuri you’re all I need,” now it’s hurry up Yuri I need more cock.”

“Yuri!” Otabek bucks his hips upward. “I just really need-“

“I know Beka,” Yuri all but coos in a syrupy thick voice that barely sounds like his own. Leave it to Otabek fucking Altin to wring that kind of bullshit out of him. Yuri presses the toy lightly against Otabek’s rim. “I’m gonna start slow, so stay still okay?”

Cause unlike taking a knot that’s already inside, he’s got to work the toy in slowly against his own cock. And if he’s going to be perfectly honest, it’s really hard to heed by his own words and stay still while he’s working it in. Seeing the toy disappear inch by inch into Otabek’s already stretched hole is every wet dream he’s ever had and then some.

“Yuri, please,” and Otabek stretches out every last syllable in “please,” and makes it beg for mercy. “Yuri it’s so good. I can’t-”

“You will,” Yuri growls and clamps a firm hand down on Otabek’s hip. Cause if he’s gotta stay still, Otabek sure as fuck does.

“Yuri. I love you. Yuri, I want you to sit on my face after this.”

Oh god, here it comes. Otabek’s needy fucked out stream of conscious. A steady flow of affection and filth that drives Yuri fucking wild. Yuri _tries._ Tries so fucking hard to push the toy the remaining few inches into Otabek.

“I love you, and I want to marry you Yura. And I want to eat you out, and feel your cock and,”

Yuri presses the toy in as far as it will go. “Beka,” he interrupts. “You ready?”

“Yes, Yuri. I need you.”

Yuri won’t make him wait any longer. His movements are awkward and jerky, erratic. It’ hard to thrust in and keep the toy in. Yuri manages with a firm hand on Otabek’s ass keeping the toy inside, and another hand on his hip holding him still. Will Otabek have little purple red bruises on his skin from where Yuri held him down?

The thought makes Yuri bite his lip until it stings, and he just wants to come so badly.

“You know I love you right Yuri?”

“Of fuckin,” Yuri pants, “Course,” he mouths against Otabek’s neck and his shoulder. Otabek turns back awkwardly to try to kiss him on the mouth. It’s a colossal failure of barely grazing lips and teeth and Yuri desperately trying to hold on and stay buried deep within Otabek.

“I love you too,” Yuri punctuates the sentence with a sharp smack to Otabek’s ass. And the noise that Otabek makes in response is just music layered upon the already lovely wet slick noises of their bodies smashing together.

Yuri bites down on Otabek’s shoulder. Hard enough to leave a bruise, but not hard enough to look like the thick ugly scares that mated alpha omega pairs wear. Yuri concentrates on the sound of Otabek’s cries, the tightness around his cock, and the addictive pressure of the toy in his own ass.

 _Fucking finally_ Yuri’s coming deep inside Otabek. And Otabek’s not far behind coming into his own hand and onto the sheets.

* * *

Yuri does little more than roll over and pass out when they finish.

Otabek wakes him up again sometime later. Not with kisses and kitten licks and rubbing his half hard dick across his ass, but with the promise of fresh sheets, and a cup of tea. Yuri begrudgingly rolls out of bed and lets Otabek change the sheets.

As he rubs the sleep from his eyes, he notices that the alarm clock on the nightstand reads well after two A.M.

There’s a dull ache deep within, one that grows and one that wants, and one that’s forced his cock to attention with more force than any wet dream would on it’s own. And that’s when he realizes…He fell asleep with the plug in his ass.

Yuri crawls back into bed. Otabek puts a cup of tea on the nightstand on Yuri’s side of bed, and crawls into bed next to him. Touches his red and straining cock playfully. Tests the weight in his hand, and alternates between fast and slow thrusts with his hand.

Yuri bites back soft whimpers and moans.

“Want me to?”

“Yeah,” Yuri chuckles. Otabek’s ability to talk dirty leaves as soon as he’s come. And won’t return again until he’s stuffed full of cock. “In a minute.”

Moonlight streams in from the parted curtains at the window, so that Yuri can see the cocked brow and mouth drawn into a thin uncertain line perfectly. Yuri is usually so needy and so demanding once his heat has come into full swing. But he might finally get it. Get why Otabek likes to wait. Still doesn’t get why he always pushes Yuri away though at first.

“Can you just hold me for a little bit?”

Otabek draws him close and pulls him into a spooning position. “Do you ever think this would be easier if one of us were an alpha?”

Yuri scoffs. “I think, I’d rather be genuinely attracted to you, at the risk of having to wait to get fucked than deal with all that bullshit.”

Yuri can feel Otabek smile against his neck. “I love you Yuri,” Otabek says after a long and very comfortable silence.

“I love you too Beka.”


End file.
